Puck — January 30, 1878 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

PUCK. PUCK’S COMEDY-STORIES. I. LOVE AND LAMBS. ApArrap row Tim FRENCH OF MM. MEILHAC ann HALEVY. (Continued. ISS HARDINGE hesitates a moment, and then says: “Tf I were to tell you, you would not be content to leave the matter in my hands. You would try to do something on your own responsibility, and a man in love is not a re- sponsible being.” “And I'm such a fearfully awkward fellow, anyway!” sighed poor Smith. Pa! hen let me act for you. All I ask of you is that you do not appear surprised, whatever hap —no matter how surprising it may be. And first, you must leave this house.” « Am I to go back to New York?” “No, You came here to see papa’s sheep. Go and see papa’s sheep. And come back here at—let’s see, it is five by that clock—set your watch by it. Return in precisely ten min- antes, Not a second before —not a second after!” “What—a second? Is it important to a second ?”” “You promised not to be astonished at any- thing!” and his new friend holds up a warning finger. % “I beg your pardon. I won't do it again. But, oh! if you knew how I feel. I must be in love, I am so horribly sure there’s no hope for me.” “T thank you, sir!” “ But—if you'll only try!” “That's better. And now—goodbye till ten minutes past five.” “T go, Ah! that empty chair—that empty chair!" “Tt will be occupied when you return.” And Mr. Smith retires with a low and some- what melancholy bow. Teft alone, Miss Har- dinge seats herself thoughtfully on the piano- stool and meditates: “Poor fellow! I like him, though, and I mean to make Gabrielle like him. But how? Ican go to her and repeat this interview; Ican assure her that she is loved sincerely and dis- interestedly by an honorable, worthy man. She will toss her pretty head at the idea, and my protégé will have a hopeless case. No, that will never do. My own plan is very risky— and, from a strictly moral point of view, it’s \Father—arabesque. But it offers some chance of success, and I'm going to try it. And now to play my little comedy with a serious face. I shall ‘have hard work not to laugh outright.” She looks at her pretty face in the glass over the mantel, “ Let me see—I must look troubled and ner- vous—and flushed—oh, yes! I must be flushed. There, I think that will do for a flush.” She has rubbed her cheeks with her little handkerchief till she glows like a rosebud, and she has just time to finish this simple but effec- tive bit of make-up when Gabrielle reénters the room. “Well, is he gone?” “Oh! Gabrielle—is it you?”—with a little start. 4 “Why, what’s the matter, Sylvia ?”” “Come here to me, Gabrielle! Look me in the face,” “Why, Sylvia, how strangely you look!” “Tell me, Gabrielle, why did you leave the room just now—when Mr. Smith was an- nounced ?” “T told you,” with a shade of reserve, ‘be- cause I supposed he had something important to say to you.”” ' “Was it only that? Are you sure?” *©Of course!” ai For heaven’s sake, conceal nothing from me!" “‘Well—there was another reason.” “ Ah, I knew it.” “I know him slightly, this Mr. Smith, and I didn’t care especially about remaining in the room while he was there.” “Heaven be praised if what you say is true!” And the blonde clasps her hands and looks up to the ceiling. “Why, Sylvia dear, what did you think ?” “«T was afraid that, in spite of all my efforts, I had not been able to conceal my nervous- ese “Your nervousness ?”” “And that you had perceived it; and like the dear girl you are, you had gone away.” “You — nervous — because of Mr. Smith! Sylvia, my dear, what does this mean ?” “Hadn't you noticed it? No? Well, no matter. I should have confided in you in any case. I can confide in you, love?” “Of course you can. But this—I don’t un- derstand a word!” “«QOh!.Gabrielle, Gabrielle!” “Well! Sylvia, Sylvia!” “You were right, just now, when you spoke of the fatal, the irresistible influence of the man whom all women love! I tried to argue with you. But I spoke ill—I was combating my own heart! Yes, at the very moment I was speaking, his image flashed before my mind! —Flashed ?” she murmured to herself, ‘I don’t think images flash— but it sounds nicely.” “« Whose image?” queries the astounded Ga- brielle. “Mr. Smith’s!” “Mr. Smith's image— before your mind!” “ His image, Gabrielle, and my mind. You have got both right—the image and the mind.” “Impossible! Sylvia!” “I know, poor dear Jack—he’s the best fel- low in the world—but—” “ Syeial” “Oh, listen to me, Gabrielle. We are alone —we have known each other from childhood. I may speak to you as I should to my own sis- ter.” “ Certainly—but I don’t understand.” “Yes, you do. I speak to you because you do understand. Because I know that you are a woman of intelligence—” “Oh, come, dear!” “And of heart.” “Come! come!” “And then—I can’t help myself! I must speak!”. and she whispers to the mirror: “That's the language of love.” “ But what has all this got to dowith Mr.—”” “Smith? oh, yes, I know — poor dear Jack—" : “That isn’t what I mean. I mean—I can’t —that is—well, I don’t see why I shouldn’t say it—Mr. Smith doesn’t seem to me the man to inspire such a feeling.” “Mr. Smith does not?” “ No—not to me,” é ‘There are a great many women who have thought differently.” This with a soft sigh. “What?” “Oh, I’m not speaking about women of his own class—people in society. He would never forgive me—he isso discreet and so honorable. And you yourself, you would not wish it, if it should chance that you were in such a posi- tion—" “Sylvia! what are you talking about ?”’ «Oh, we are alone.” ‘* Well, suppose we are—”’ ‘Oh, no!” goes on Venus, leaning on the mantel-piece and looking in the glass, where she sees reflected her companion’s puzzled face, “I’m not speaking of girls we know—but—do you remember that Italian woman—that contralto —who fainted on the stage at the Academy of Music, last winter? They had to carry her off—Signora Giulia Gione. Do you know why she fainted ?” . “« Because she couldn't sing-and/was fright- ened. Jack said she was in a blue funk.” « “Hm!” says Venus, a little taken But she recovers herself. " <3 “ Signora Gione fainted because she saw Mr. Smith entering the house. And since that time she has never ceased to’ pursue him. She follows him from’ place to place—he cannot move without having her on his heels.” “What is this?” “What anyone will tell you, if you choose to ask.” “Mr. Smith! I can’t believe it. In the first place, a man by the name of Smith}” “ Peter Smith—I like the name—Peter.”. “Yes, one likes-it, if one likes that kind of. name. e-fer/" and Juno's ripe lips curl dis- dainfully. “Oh, don't say.‘ Pe-ter’ in that contemp- tuous way! Say it like this,” cries Miss Har- dinge, ecstatically, “ Peter!” “'Pisn't any better that way.” Juno shakes But what of it? The her head. ** Well, perhaps not. men who inspire these strange wild passions are not particularly handsome nor particularly clever, nor particularly anything—but then they have something that no others have—a certain je ne sais gu “And Mr. Smith—” “ Peter Smith.” “Mr, Peter Smith has this certain —” “Te ne sais quoi.” “Well—I hadn’t noticed it.” ‘Oh Gabrielle, are you blind?” Gabrielle does not answer. She scems lost in thought. Standing by her chair, she toys with her work and maintains silence for several moments. Themshe asks: “Is he gone ?—Mr. Smith, I mean.” “No, he is only gone out to look about the place. He will dine here. Oh, dear! I had hoped—indeed I had hoped—that he would never notice me. But to-day—he has come-— and—I know it—he loves me!” “ Oh, Sylvia!” “There. can be no doubt of it. He gave me some pretext for his visit—but I could not be deceived. ‘There was Tove in his face—in his manner — in his voice.” “ And are you sure — 2” “Can't you believe it?” . “Of course—that he should love you—that is the most natural thing in the world—but that you love him—oh, no, Sylvia!” Sylvia looks at the clock. It is ten minutes past five. . “ You do not believe it. Ah! do you wish a proof? Oh, my heart, my heart!” “A proof?” “Yes! See, 1 do not turn—I am not look- ing. But I know he is near us now—I know he is approaching—my heart tells me he is coming. Look out and see!” Gabrielle obeys, laughing, yet impressed in spite of Herself. “ Well, I don’t see him.” “Stupid!” murmurs Miss Hardinge to her- self; “after what I told him! He is not there?” she demands aloud. ‘“No—yes, there he is!” > “T knew it!” “He's running!” “I'm not surprised,” is Miss Hardinge’s pri- vate comment, ‘He's running very fast!” Juno smiles to herself. “It’s very well he is. He has just escaped ruining my poor heart’s reputation for veracity.” In a moment Mr, Smith enters the room. He. is decidedly out’ of’ breath, and? he “has the}: inane expression of aman who does not under- mIcbooks}